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Fashion Advice

[whitespace] Miss Pinkie Shears

Miss Pinkie Shears

Yes, I'm still away. This column reminded me of a previous beach vacation. Feel free to chide me for this constant drone, but my new email address is [email protected]. I hope my mailbox will be virtually brimming with news from the troubled, angry and idle if I return.

Dear Pinkie Shears,
I know that fashion rules are always changing, but are there any things that one should never do, no matter what?
--Sincerely, Kitty

Dear Kitty,
Labor Day is now upon us and with it comes one of the "time-honored" rules of fashion: No white shoes blah blah blah. The rise of the sneaker from childhood's blacktop to the Paris runway and everywhere in between has permanently destroyed that tenet of style. But fashion rules are made and remade by those who have the time and money to consider them and the influence to enforce them. Nevertheless, I find myself more and more aghast at the fashion and style choices that the wealthy are making when left on their own with no proper adult supervision. When one has money to burn, it is all the more offensive when one cannot dress oneself. For example, the well-to-do of the etiquette set at times seem to be as tacky as they are tanned. So please, never, no matter what, follow their example in these areas:

(1) No matter how much you may have paid for it, never wear a crewneck sweatshirt with pearls. It is not classic and/or sporty. It is tasteless, doubly so if the offending item is embroidered with the name of an exclusive resort area or island.

(2) Wearing sheer peds, like those one might use at a store when trying on shoes without the proper stockings, is extreme silliness under any circumstance. For those who believe this ruse actually creates the illusion of bare legs and feet, please also try wearing fatigue print to a garden party for its wonderful slimming effect. What minuscule difference these peds supposedly make in the sanitary or olfactory sphere is far outweighed by their completely offensive aesthetic, since they inevitably creep up past the topline of a shoe to expose their buff nylon casing. They doom even the loveliest Prada pump to the level of the orthopedic wedges of the nursing home set.

(3) What exactly is that shade of blonde called anyway? Nantucket Beach? Vineyard Vixen? Sandy Bluff? Hampton Honey? Ravaged by the Dunes?

Ultimately, Kitty, there are no hard-and-fast rules for fashion anymore. Only mistakes. Many, many mistakes.

In need of advice? Send all queries and comments to Miss Pinkie Shears at San Francisco Metropolitan, 1717 17th St, San Francisco, 94103. You may now email Miss Shears at [email protected].

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From the August 16, 1999 issue of the Metropolitan.

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